a strange thing happened on the way to the museum
by dress without sleeves
Summary: Pre-series. Rated for language. Dean, Sam, John, and a coven of witches. It was a simple enough job until Sam woke up without a very important dangling participle. Oh, well. Dean's always wanted a little sister ...
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:** I've been wanting to write this for a while, and then it started, and now it won't stop.

I do love my boys, and I'm even starting to love my girl.

a strange thing happened on the way to the museum

_For Jeremy_

_Love youu!_

The first thing Sam notices is that he feels lighter than usual.

The second thing is that he doesn't have a penis.

X

Dean is woken to the sound of his little brother screaming. But the sound is high-pitched and off-key and not his usual startled grunt; he leaps out of bed and has a gun in his hand before he even remembers to reach for it.

But the person standing where Sammy ought to be is definitely not Samuel Winchester.

By the time John makes it to the room Dean has collapsed on the floor, gun discarded, completely unable to breathe.

X

John thinks: _shoulda fuckin' known the hunt couldn't be that easy_._ Fuckin' witches._

Which he should have. Destroying a coven of witches ought to take longer than fifteen minutes and wouldn't produce magical backlash unless there was someone there to be the origin of the magic.

Might he add that it also shouldn't turn his youngest son into his youngest daughter.

He rubs a tired hand over his eyes and nudges a near-tears Dean with his boot. "Dude, swallow it," he scolds tiredly, shaking his head, and then raises his voice to be heard over the shrieking. "Sam. _Sam._ SAMMY. STOP."

He barks it like an order so Sam subsides, purely by habit, and then stands looking at him with the widest, scaredest eyes he's ever seen and John softens, thinking, _fuckin' witches._

"Dad," Sam chokes. "Dad, where the fuck is my _penis_?"

X

Dean can't help it. He says, "You haven't had one since you met Emily Garrison," and then starts laughing again.

X

His Dad's lips twitch twice before he stills them and shoots Dean a warning glare which punctuates his laughter with a sharp point. "Sam, calm down," he says, dropping a soothing hand onto his Sam's arm.

Sam just blinks at him like his old man is the biggest idiot on the fucking _planet_ because _hello_ he went to bed with all his parts intact and now he is _missing_ his _dick._ He has two huge fucking _boobs_ that hurt like hell just standing there and his _hair_ is down to his _chest_.

And let us just reiterate.

Sam. does. not. have. a. penis.

"Calm _down_?!" He asks. "Dad, I'm a fuckin' _chick_!"

X

John decides not to panic publicly, and instead flashes his son a little grin and chucks him on the cheek. "No Sam," Dean interrupts solemnly, "You are a young woman with feelings, who deserves to be treated with respect."

John cuffs his oldest boy on the back of his head and pulls out his cell phone. "Be ready to split in ten minutes," he orders as he speed dials Bobby. The first words out of his mouth when the other man answers are, "Fuckin' _witches_."

X

As soon as his Dad is out of earshot Dean's mouth is open, ready to be the doorway to some of the universe's wittiest comments, but one look at Sammy's face shuts him up.

His little … sister … is actually fighting_ tears_. Her eyes are suspiciously bright and her bottom lip is quivering as she wraps her arms around her chest and hugs tightly. Sam turns to Dean imploringly, quibbling on the corner of her mouth. "_Deeean_," she moans, dropping her face into her hands, "What's the matter with me?"

And okay, so, upset!Sam he can handle.

Upset!Samantha? Not so much.

"Hey," he soothes, choking back a laugh and tucking away the image for later—when Sam's a dude again and not crying like a ten-year-old girl—"From where I'm standing, there is _nothing_ wrong with you, dude."

Sam sighs, shaking her head and gesturing at herself. "Sexist ass," she mutters and then flops down onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling with undisguised misery. "What if I'm a girl forever?"

Dean considers.

X

Sam watches Dean think for a minute, half-expecting some sort of _leave it to Dad_ bullshit that Sam stopped buying years ago.

Instead he gets a little grin and a light squeeze on his arm as Dean grabs the Impala's keys from the bedside table.

"I've always wanted a sister," he says.

Which is actually sort of honest, for Dean.

X

Bobby laughs for ten straight minutes after John grinds out his dilemma. Then he promises to look up counter curses or antidotes or whatever the fuck else he can find to change his little girl back into his little boy.

Dean is already parked expectantly by the door, dangling the Impala's keys in his hand. John arches an eyebrow, tucking his cell phone into his back pocket. "Where's Sammy?" He asks.

"Trying to figure out how to pee," Dean deadpans, and John has to fight everything in him not to laugh. He never told his boys, but he's been in Sammy's position—once, at the very beginning, when he didn't know the difference between the Latin words for _change_ and _switch_. So Bobby and Dean might laugh it up, but he's on Sammy's side, for once.

He cuffs the back of Dean's head and snatches the keys from his fingers. "Come on, Dean," he scolds, "Be a little sympathetic."

His oldest's face is a picture of innocence, and if John didn't know better he would swear that butter wouldn't melt in his mouth if you lit his tongue on fire. "Hey, I'm a picture of understanding," he lies easily. "So…where are we going? Gonna sell Sammy's body? 'Cause really Dad, money isn't _that_ tight."

John can't prevent the helpless little grin that splits his face as he shoves Dean out of the front door. "Shut up, smartass. We're going shopping."

X

Let it be said: the part of Sam's mind is still Samuel Winchester heaves a sigh at the thought of another trip to Goodwill.

It's just that the other part, the part that is already used to the boobs and the smallness and the hair-in-your-eyes thing, is too strong to deny. And it's this part that breaks into a huge grin at the word _shopping_, squeals triumphantly, and beats Dean to the car.

X

To the relief of all involved, Samantha Winchester still likes the greatest hits of mullet rock.

The only difference is that now she sings along.

X

By the time they reach the Goodwill, Dean's ears are bleeding from Sammy's voice grating against them. He's pretty sure he'll never be able to listen to Iron Maiden again without wanting to jam a pencil into his ear.

They get out and lose Sam instantly to the 'dresses' section (a fact which Dean tucks away into his mental 'Definitely Pull Out At Parties' folder). John and Dean loiter awkwardly at the door, not really sure how to do the whole "trying on" thing with a girl—what are the boundaries for fathers and brothers while daughters are getting dressed? Is any male relative even _allowed_ to see her in her underwear, or is that like accidental, but still sick and incestual, pedophilia?

"Sooo…what did Bobby say?" Dean asks after a beat.

John sighs, running a tired hand over his beard and casually eying a worn weather jacket in the next aisle. "That he'll find something and call back in a few days."

Dean blinks. "A few _days_? Dude, Sammy's already enrolled in school, he's got to show up on _Monday_."

"I know, Dean."

"He's totally not going to be good enough at being a girl by then!"

John sends his son a look, raising his eyebrows. "What do you want me to say, Dean? I _know_."

They stand in silence, listening to Sammy's excited chatter as she pays for the new clothes, and zip their mouths into straight lines when she bounces back towards them. To everyone's great surprise, Sammy rocks up onto the balls of her feet and happily kisses her father's cheek before wrapping his fingers with her own. "Thanks, Daddy," she says with a grin, and leads the way back to the Impala.

X

Dean won't tell you this, but it actually made him sort of happy, seeing Sam treat Dad like he actually gives a shit.

X

John won't tell you this, but it made him happier than he's been in a long time, being treated by Sam like he actually gives a shit.

X

Sam won't tell you this, but by the time they got to the car he'd decided he'd gotten _way_ in over his head when he bought a thong.

What sort of a creature _pays_ for a constant wedgie?


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes:**_God_, this is fun to write.

Although I think it ought to be said that, as a girl, I realize that most girls don't act like this. But it's more fun to write it this way, so …

a strange thing happened on the way to the museum

_Para la Señora G._

_Lo siento que yo nunca presto atención._

"Bad news, John," Bobby mutters as John flips open his cell. "I can't get rid of it."

John gets up and leaves his boys—that is, leaves his children bickering over the remote. Dean wants to watch football but Sammy has recently discovered the dubious joys of made-for-TV-movies and has declared it a Movie Marathon Weekend.

"What do you mean, you can't get rid of it?" John asks, his voice a bit tighter and higher than usual. "Bobby. My _son_ has become my _daughter_. 'Can't' is not an option!"

"Don't yell at me, John, I'm not fuckin' finished," Bobby snaps. "Jesus, you're like Sammy after a goddamn ice cream."

It takes a lot of willpower. But John doesn't hang up the phone purely to prove a point. Instead he says, "You're just jealous because I have the cutest kids on the goddamn planet and you're a lonely old man."

X

For the record, Bobby chooses to ignore this comment only because he knows John is emotional.

If _you_ try calling him a lonely old man, he'll kick your ass from here to St. Patrick's Day.

X

"_I_ can't get rid of it, but you can. The only way to end the spell is to terminate the origin of its power."

John grinds his teeth. "Fuckin' witches," he growls. He's going through the hunt in his mind, trying to find _some point_ where one might have slipped away, but there's nothing. He had the whole thing locked down tight. Destroyed the coven, burned the house, problem solved.

Except not.

"God. _Sam_."

Bobby's voice is just a little gentler, like maybe he's thinking that John's not the total ass he always pictured him to be. "I know it's not easy, but you're going to have to find whoever is left of that coven and get rid of her. You don't want…you don't want that kind of magic stickin' around in Sam."

John instantly tenses. There is something in the words that he doesn't like, and he's already reaching for his knife like he'll go hunt this bitch down _right now_. "Why?" There's a brief moment of hesitance and John snaps, "Bobby. Spit it out."

Bobby sighs, and his voice is tired when he finally speaks. "A spell like that…well…it works in stages, John. Starts out with physical changes. After a while, there are mental…ramifications."

"Meaning?"

"He'll forget he was a boy. Might not be able to change back."

John doesn't have time to say goodbye. Just tosses the phone away, like it's burned him.

X

When Dad says, "I'm going out," Dean stops reaching for the remote.

"Where are you going?" Sammy asks, getting to her feet and crossing her arms over her chest. She actually looks more intense than boy!Sammy did, because as a girl he's got that mysterious, what-the-hell-is-she-thinking thing going for her.

"Out," Dad repeats, his tone a warning, "And you're not coming."

Sammy opens her mouth to answer and Dean starts gearing up for a fight, climbing tiredly to his feet and wondering idly what his Dad is going to do if this version of Sammy tries to hit him. But all that comes out is, "Call if you find anything."

X

The words don't process in John's mind, and he's automatically arguing, "_Look_ Sammy if I _say_ you're not coming then you're _not fuckin_'—what?"

Sammy is looking at him with a light, worried frown; John glances over at Dean for some sort of confirmation, like _you heard that too?_, and then he's awkwardly wiping his hands on the front of his pants and coughing into his fist. "Uh, right," he says then. "Yes. Well. Okay."

He half-makes to leave and then turns back haltingly, almost as if double-checking for any last minute arguments, and then walks outside without slamming the door.

X

The instant the door as closed, Dean turns to Sammy and says, "Christo."

His little sister blinks at him, bewildered. "The fuck, Dean?"

"Come on, Sammy. Where is Ms. Argumentative Ass today?"

She rolls her eyes, turning back to the T.V. in silence and idly chewing on her nails.

X

She's quiet for ten minutes. But seriously, after that she just can't hold it in anymore. Because she's not going to, like, say it to his _face_ or anything but seriously, her Dad is just a total _freak_ who doesn't understand her at _all._

"OhmyGodDean," she bursts out all in one breath when the made-for-T.V. movie grinds to a commercial break, "Dadissuchatotal_ass_."

Dean looks over slowly.

"I mean who does he think he is? He has like _no_ idea what it's like to be me. He was a teenager like _two centuries_ ago. It's not like I'm not talking about him behind his back. I'm not. I'm just like, _so_ mad and have to talk about it to _some_one. You know? I'm not being a bitch right now. But Dad is like such a fucking douche bag sometimes, it makes me want to _scream_. Oh my God. I can't even handle this right now. I just—I'm going to shower and then to sleep and like _never_ have to wake up. Okay? Okay. Goodnight. Thanks for listening Dean, you're the best big brother ever."

Sammy kisses his cheek and then bounces off towards the bathroom.

X

Dean says, "Oh. There she is."

X

Let it be said that John is not surprised when there is no evidence of a mistake at the scene where he killed what he thought was an entire coven of witches.

Mistakes would mean that he'd been negligent, and John Winchester is many things but incautious is not one of them.

Also, he doesn't fuck up on hunts.

Sam-As-A-Girl not included.

When Dean wakes up, it is Monday, and Sammy is snoring loud enough to startle a blind man from a nap.

This isn't odd except that Sammy doesn't snore, and wakes up at 5:30 every morning just for kicks. It's a weirdly powerful feeling, being the first one awake. Dean gets out of bed, walks to the kitchen, makes coffee and starts on breakfast.

It's kind of … nice.

He's on the counter, sipping idly at the mug of burning caffeine, thinking about what a great day it's going to be. No fighting, no hunting, and, most importantly, no—

"Dean, what are you _doing_? It's 7 o'clock, we have to get to school in an hour!"

He stares at Sam, coffee dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. "School? Dude, _look_ at yourself!"

Sammy glances down, eyes slipping down her dress and stockings to her shoes. "What? I thought I looked nice."

X

Dean has a headache.

X

"And you don't have to say it like that! I'm just getting used to this _'girl'_ thing and I bought the cheapest things that I could—and anyway, it's not like this is _my_ fault, I didn't _ask _to have my pride and joy taken from me, why don't _you_ try sitting down on the toilet to pee, it's not as easy as it looks, _Dean_—"

X

A really, _really_ big headache.

X

"—And where is Dad, anyway? Not _here_. Probably out hunting some new monster, completely disregarding that his _son_ is now capable of having _babies_!"

"SAMMY. SHUT. UP!" Dean throws his hands into the air and Sam closes her mouth with a snap. She shuffles guiltily. She didn't mean to yell at Dean, she knows it's not his fault—it's just that all of a sudden she can't shove aside all the feelings she has, they keep bubbling up to her mouth and she can't just go outside and beat the shit out of something anymore.

Well, I mean, she _could_, but she might break a nail. And Sammy doesn't care _how_ that sounds, that shit hurts like _hell_.

"Sorry," she mutters weakly.

Dean sighs, his lips quirking up around the edges. "It's okay. Are you sure you want to go to school as…I mean, looking like…" he gestures helplessly. "You know."

Sammy sets her chin. "Yes," she declares firmly. "I don't know how long I'm going to be stuck like this and I might as well get used to it." She fidgets uncomfortable under Dean's gaze and nervously picks at the wedgie that's been riding her since she woke up.

X

Okay. She might not exactly be _his_ Sammy, but she's definitely his Samantha, and she's kind of growing on him.

And there is no such thing as an unpopular Winchester. Dean's not about to let her salt his game, no matter _how_ cute she is.

So he shakes his head and dumps his coffee and says firmly, "All right. You can go. But not today."

Sammy cocks her head to the side, frowning. "But Dean—"

"Look dude," he interrupts firmly, "I said you could go, but I'm not going to let you embarrass yourself—or me. So today, we are on a mission and tomorrow you can go to school."

X

Sammy doesn't like the weird gleam in Dean's eyes. It's kind of like the look he got when Dad gave him the Impala last year on his 16th birthday.

"Mission?" she asks weakly.

Dean nods once, grabbing his keys and leading Sammy with a hand on the small of her back to the car. "To teach you how to be a girl."

X

No offense to Dean, but Sammy's pretty sure he's the _last_ person a body should learn how to be a girl from.

At least, not unless you want to be dressed in leather boots and fishnets.

X

Dean correctly interprets the look his sister sends him, so he rolls his eyes. "Don't be such an asshat, Sammy. You think I don't know when I need back up?"

"I'm not going to turn into one of the women you pick up on Friday nights," Sammy pouts, crossing her arms over her chest.

Her brother looks horrified. "Absol_utely_ you're not! You think I want my little sister running around with mysterious—although indescribably handsome and charming—strangers?"

"Then where are we going?"

X

For the record, Dean does _not_ blush.

It just got very hot for a second, that's all.

X

"I have friends that are girls, Sam. How else do you think I get my homework done?"

Sammy waits in patient silence.

"Her name is Lucy," Dean says finally, pulling the car to a stop in front of a pretty, neat yellow house. "And…don't mention those Friday night ladies you were talking about," he adds hastily, refusing to look his sister in the eye. "For—you know—simplicity's sake."

X

Even as a girl, Sammy is still a master of the self-satisfied smirk.

X

Dean _still_ finds it annoying.

Whatever. He rings the door bell.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:** I know, I know. This story shouldn't have any love interests in it.

But I couldn't help it. What other chance am I going to have to give Dean to the kind of person I actually think he needs? (If you're interested enough to know my—believe me, _very_ expansive—thoughts on who this person is, feel free to ask.)

a strange thing happened on the way to the museum

_For Susie_

_Get better._

"_Owww_," Sam whines, rubbing woefully at her ankles. She's collapsed in Lucy's egg chair, legs crossed to keep modest, skin smooth and freshly shaved.

Lucy says, "Suck it up, Sam," without sympathy and puts her hands on her hips. "It's not as easy as it _looks_, is it?"

Sam shoots her a dirty luck. It's easy for _her_ to make fun; _she's_ been walking in this kind of God-forsaken shoe since she was six. It's Sam's first time and she can't balance and her toes are squished and all her weight is pressing on the balls of her feet and every time she tries to take a step her knees wobble. Being a girl sucks.

Her teacher sighs an holds out her hands; Sam gleefully kicks off the high-heels and hand them to her. Wordlessly she slips them onto her little feet and walks to the other end of the room. "Watch me carefully," she instructs. "One foot in front of the other."

X

And, okay, so Dean and Lucy are just friends but really—there's not harm in looking, is there? It's not _his_ fault the quiet, shy Lucy Hamilton has this way of walking when she's wearing heels that makes Brittany Spears look like Shirly Temple.

X

Sam watches in amazement. It's like she's chemically built to walk and not falter. "It's all physics," she is saying—at last! something Sam can understand!—"You know, forward motion and finding your center of balance."

Lucy kicks the shoes off and sends him a shy smile. "You know, I learned to walk in heels by counting to four with each step: 1- lift, 2- step, 3- place, 4- balance. You try."

X

She makes to sit on the coffee table, but Dean grabs her around the waist and pulls her onto his lap.

She looks back at him, surprised and blushing, and he winks lightly. "Ladies shouldn't have to sit on hard surfaces," he teases.

X

Sam mutters, "Yeah, because your_ lap_ isn't hard at all."

Thankfully, only her brother hears.

X

1- lift.

2- step.

3- place.

4- balance.

X

She did it!

Sam throws her hands in the air and lets out a whoop; Dean and Lucy spring to their feet and applaud. Dean high-fives his sister and congratulations, "Well done, Gracie Lou Freebush."

Lucy and Sam turn to look at him, faces blank.

"Dude, did you just quote _Miss Congeniality_?" Sam asks.

X

Dean would like to state, for the record, that he only watched it because it featured at least twenty hot women and flaming batons. What's not to like?

X

Lucy shakes her head, little blonde curls bouncing against both he cheeks as she giggles. "Well done, Samantha. You've conquered heels. Next up: eating!"

Sam grins. She can already tell that this will be her favorite lesson.

"_Fuck_, Bobby," John swears, flipping frantically through his notebook.

"Swear at me won't help your boy," Bobby answers idly, his voice crackling a bit through the connection.

"Well, it sure makes me feel better," John snarls, lifting himself to his feet and pacing back and forth across the room. "The _fuck_ am I supposed to do? I thought the entire coven was in that building! I have no more leads, not the tiniest _quibble_ of an idea who might be left."

X

For the sake of not getting beat into the ground, Bobby fails to comment on the fact that John just used the word 'quibble'.

As a unit of measurement, no less.

X

"Well, who was it that you killed? Do you know their names?"

John doesn't have to think about it; he's good with lists and details. "Maureen Powers, Audrey Stewart, Nicole Omero, and Jessica Zimmerman."

"Any of 'em got any kids?"

John feels a pinch of guilt in his stomach. He _really_ wishes mothers would learn not to get involved with magic; that way he wouldn't have to feel so damn bad about depriving a kid of her mother. But once a witch, always a witch: you can't fight it.

It's like he said to Sammy when the boy was pitching a pity-fit in the back of the Impala: joining a coven is like what happened to the kings in Lord of the Rings who accepted the rings from Sauron. Magic turns you before you even know you're moving.

"Yeah. One—the Omero woman. Adopted. Name's … uh … Nina, I believe. Child of her sister."

"What's she doing with Mommy Magical?"

"Not sure. You don't think the kid's involved?"

X

"Worth lookin' into."

Bobby rolls his eyes. For all John's prowess, he's got a blind spot when it comes to kids. He forgets that not all of America's teenagers are Sam and Dean.

Which, in retrospect, is actually probably a good thing for the teen pregnancy rate.

X

John swears. "Aw, fuck. Now I gotta get the boys involved, don't I? It's a good thing Dean's filled out in the past couple years. Shouldn't be too much of a problem, getting the girl to—"

"Whoa, whoa, John. First of all, for the sake of Jim Murphy having my ass on toast, I am _not_ letting you tell Dean to seduce a high school girl who may or _may not_ be guilty."

"Dean could do it!"

"Who's sayin' otherwise? That's the point. They're not adults yet, John. At least one of them isn't. And I'm _so_ not letting Dean get arrested for statutory rape."

X

Fuckin' sex laws. As far as John's concerned, if a kid wants to jump in bed with someone twice their age, who is he to stop 'em?

"Well, what's _your_ idea, smartass?"

X

Bobby hesitates, anticipating John's reaction. Then he says quietly, "Sam."

There's a brief pause.

"_What_? I am not letting my daughter have lesbian sex with some high school tramp just to get information!"

He blinks, trying to understand _what_ has fucked with John Winchesters head so badly that he would make the leap from "Sam" to "lesbian sex".

"Lesbian…? Jesus, John, what kind of idiot _are _you? I mean have Sam be_friend_ the girl, not—_God, _John!"

X

John holds the phone away from his ear as Bobby rants at him--_of all the twisted sons of bitches in the world, John Winchester—_and stuffs his fist into his mouth to keep from laughing.

For the record, he knew what Bobby meant. But sometimes it's just too easy.

X

It takes them a day and a half, but by the time John has mapped out a plan with Bobby, Samantha (now 'Sammie' for short—neither Sam or Dean had understood why the 'y' had to be replaced, but Lucy assured them that 'ie' is the new It Thing with nicknames) has learned how to walk in high heels, eat like a lady, behave like a teenage girl, and—of course, finally—how to properly use the toilet.

Dean was present for all of the above but the last.

Sam and Dean pick up Lucy in the Impala, and they drive to Sam's school without music.

Dean doesn't think he could live with another one of Sam's concerts.

"God, I do _not_ miss high school," Dean laughs, before looking over at Lucy and adding, "At least, not the _place_."

Lucy giggles and punches his arm. "Suck up," she accuses good-naturedly before turning to look at Sammie in the backseat. "Ready, Sam?"

She gulps, wiping her palms on the seat. "No," she squeaks. "Not at all. I make a horrible girl, Lucy, I'm going to make an idiot of myself."

The petite blonde shakes her head, frowning lightly and patting Sam's knee. "That's not true. I'll be with you the whole time. Do you remember the plan?"

Sam nods, getting out of the car with a stomach full of dread. Dean follows suit, hurrying around the front of the car to open Lucy's door. She blushes up at him and lets him help her out; Sam rolls her eyes. "Let's _go_," she whines. "I just want this day to be over and you two are dragging it out with your little lovey-dovey _moments_."

"We aren't having _moments_, Sam," Dean snaps curtly. Lucy straightens her backpack and tugs at her uniform skirt, nibbling nervously on the bottom of her lip.

X

And—also for the record—Dean really, _really_ digs uniforms.

Plaid is his new favorite color.

X

A small crowd of girls is gathering by the door, looking over at the car. From the side of her mouth, Lucy says, "Okay, that's Nina and her friends. Sam, tell me about Dean."

Sam takes a deep breath and recites from memory: "He's on vacation from Stanford, where he plays soccer and parties and doesn't do much else. He doesn't have to—he's practically a genius."

Dean's smirking at him. "Aw, Sammie. You're making me blush."

"Be sure to say the soccer part really loud," Lucy demands. "Nina goes_ nuts_ for athletes. Especially soccer players. All right—now let's go."

X

Dean shoves his hands deep into his pockets as they head towards the door.

So much … educational learning was done on these grounds. He might get violently ill just standing in the parking lot.

When they get within hearing distance of Nina and her friends, Sam stops and throws her arms around Dean's neck. He picks her up easily and swings her around once, kissing her gently on the cheek.

X

Don't tell Sam, but Dean sort of enjoys being able to express his feelings for his sister. It's harder to do with a brother, and a whole lot more queer.

X

"God, I don't miss high school," Dean says again, shaking his head and gently chucking Sam's chin. "Good luck, Sammie." He smiles politely and distantly at Lucy. "You too, Lucy."

She giggles stupidly at him like it's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said. "Thanks, Dean," she breathes, taking a step closer and batting her eyelashes coquettishly.

X

Dean would like to state that she looks like she's having an epileptic fit. It's not cute, and don't try it at home.

X

"You'll pick me up this afternoon?" Sammie asks, cocking her head to the side. "Dad said he had to work, so don't forget. Three fifteen, sharp."

Dean hesitates. "Aw, Sammie, I don't know. A couple of guys in town and I were going to kick around a soccer ball later… I don't want to lose my touch before the season at Stanford even starts."

X

Nina's ears prick and she steps closer.

Lucy, although she hasn't minded not getting too much by way of stream-of-consciousness syntax, would very much like to say that she's as obvious as a dirty diaper and thank _God_ Dean has the sense not to fall for girls like _that._

"We should get going, Samantha," Lucy says, grabbing her hand and tugging as Nina steps up and shoots Dean a 1,000-watt-smile.

"Hi!" She greets cheerfully. "Are you new here?"

She's not looking at Sammie when she says it, but it's Lucy that answers anyway. "This is Sammie Winchester. She's new in town."

Nina smiles again and steps closer to Dean, lowering her voice. "I'm Nina Omero. I'd be happy to show Sammie around. And you are?" She holds out a hand to Dean. He takes the offer and, with a wink, gently kisses it.

"Dean," he answers with a flirty little quirk of his lips. "I'm Sammie's older brother. Would you do me a favor, Nina?" She arches an eyebrow. "Look after Sammie for me, while she gets used to the new school. She's shy."

"_Dean_!" Sammie hisses, cheeks flaring.

Nina laughs, slinging an arm over Sammie's shoulder and beaming at Dean like he's the nicest big brother in the _world_, and also, would he maybe like to go find a nice little spot somewhere to have sex? "Absolutely I will," she says graciously.

"Then I owe you a favor," Dean murmurs, his voice low.

X

Don't tell, but Lucy goes kind of weak at that voice. She's about five seconds from dropping to her knees for him right there in the parking lot in front of everybody—and she's a _nice_ girl. She can't imagine what's going through Nina's mind.

Dirty whore.

X

Dean backs up towards his car, his eyes still on Nina like she's about to announce the coming of the Messiah, and then gets in and drives away without looking back.

Lucy makes a point to watch the car leave, because as long as Nina thinks she'll have to fight—at least a little—to get Dean's attention she'll be nicer to Sammie than the poor girl might even be ready for.

With another one of her florescent smiles, Nina takes Sammie's hand. "Welcome to Madison County High School!" She crows cheerfully. "Oh my _God_, girl, you're brother is to _die_ for."

She leads her away without a glance at Lucy, which is okay, because after twelve years she's pretty much used to it.

Her phone goes off in her pocket; it's a text.

_Is it just me, or did Nina go overkill on whatever scent she's wearing_?

Lucy giggles. It's about as close to 'nice' as Dean Winchester ever gets.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Notes: I can't help it

**Author's Notes: **MY BOYS!

a strange thing happened on the way to the museum

_for Bao Bao_

_you vixen._

Sammie is in school for eight hours.

She spends seven of them listening to Nina gush about how _smokin_' her brother is. (Really? Smokin'? Sammie was not aware that people used that word anymore. She thought it went out with windbreakers and jazzercise.)

She's introduced to all of Nina's posse—Nicolette and Georgia and Tiffany—and tries to remember all the tips that Lucy taught her (sit up straight. Cross your legs. Giggle. Bat your eyelashes—but don't look you're having eye spasms!), but really there is so much that goes into being a girl that she's not entirely sure she can do it.

At lunchtime she calls Dean in tears. She says, "Hi," her voice breaking, and the next instant he's talking at a million miles a minute.

"Sammie? What's wrong? Did something happen? Do you need me to come over?"

--

For the record, Dean would like to have it declared that he was not _worried_.

He just didn't want Sammie to have a tearful explosion again because it wouldn't help her fit in and they needed to get closer to Nina Omero.

Really. That's all.

--

"I _hate_ being a girl! You always have to remember all these rules and look pretty all the time and you have to make everything look effortless even though it's _hard_ to walk around all day in high heels and when boys look at you you're not allowed to be disgusted and I'm scared of getting my period because everyone says it'll hurt so bad and you're not here and I just want to come _home_."

--

Dean says nothing. Then, "What boys were looking at you? I'm gonna kick their asses."

"Dean," Sammie laughs tiredly, "You've like, _completely_ missed the point."

"No, I made a new one. I'll come over there are show those little bastards what for. I've got no qualms about beating the shit out of a highschooler if he looks at my sister funny."

Let the record show that he's only half-kidding.

It's at that moment that the door bursts open and Lucy hurries in. Sammie breathes a sigh of relief and wipes her tears away with her hand. "Listen, Lucy just got here. I have to go."

"Lucy's there? Give her the phone."

--

Lucy would like you to know that she did _not_ get excited or nervous talking to Dean. Those butterflies were leftover from her AP Calculus test and had nothing whatsoever to do with hormones.

--

"Dean?"

"Lucy, hi. How does she look?"

"Fine. I think she's just stressed. I'll take care of her. After school we can go out for ice cream and she'll be good as new."

"All right. Am I picking you up at three, too?"

"I mean, you can. If you want to."

"I want to."

"My mom's going to _love_ it when you pull up to the house with that crazy car of yours. She's going to think I've turned into a metal rocker kid."

"You will have by the time I'm finished with you. By the end of the week, you'll be wearing leather."

"_Dean_!"

--

Okay, seriously? Sammie is going through like, a _breakdown_ right now and her brother is too busy flirting with her like, only friend to even _care_.

Life is so unfair.

Lucy hands the phone back to Sammie, her cheeks bright red. "He's coming at three," she says.

--

John takes the cell phone out of Dean's hands, eyebrows in the air. "Who was that?" He asks. "Because you sure as _hell_ ain't gonna put my little girl into anything leather."

Dean grins, his face a picture of innocence. "Why not? I thought Sammie looked great this morning in that miniskirt."

John abandons the phone and goes for the throat.

--

For the record, he _let_ Dean win, no matter what his brat of a son might try to tell you.

--

"So … is your brother picking you up today?" Nina asks casually, taking a bite of her cheeseburger.

Sammie eyes it hungrily before looking at her own meal with a sigh. It's a handful of carrots. "I think so," she replies. "How can you eat all that and still be so skinny?"

Nina grins. "Magic," she laughs.

Sammie straightens. "Wish I had some of that magic," she declares pointedly. "Man, I'd do _anything_." She plays it cool, eating her carrots like it's not a big deal, like she's totally not thinking of the easiest way to kill a witch that looks like Penelope Cruz.

"Anything?" Nina probes gently, leaning in. Sammie smiles at her, cocking her head to the side. Nina studies her, eyes roving across Sammie like she's a piece of meat. "Well…" she leans in, whispering. "Come over to my house today at 4. We'll work something out."

Sammie swallows. "Okay," she agrees shakily. "I'll have Dean drop me off."

"Dean," Nina repeats with a hungry twist of her mouth, "Sounds perfect."

--

Dean picks them up at three, like he promised. Lucy gets to sit up front again. The two girls wait in the car while Dean goes to talk to Nina; Sammie wishes fervently she could read lips.

-X-

Nina leans against the school building, talking to Dean with a flirtatious smile on her lips. "So, did Sammie ask you about coming over today?" She asks, cocking her head to the side.

"Yeah, it shouldn't be a problem," Dean answers, brushing a strand of hair from Nina's face. "I'll bring her by around four. Thanks so much for looking out for her."

"She's a sweet girl," Nina purrs. "Such a cute kid." She places her hand on Dean's arm and runs her fingers from his elbow to his wrist. "You know," she muses idly, "You still owe me a favor."

He grins. "Well, what do you know. I do."

She stands on her tiptoes and whispers into his ear, "I'm a hard girl to satisfy."

--

To his credit, Dean does not plan to go through with any plans that will get him landed in jail for statutory rape. He doesn't even consider it.

At least, not seriously.

--

Dean steps back, tossing her a wink. "I'll see what I can do." Then he meets Sammie and Lucy in the car and rolls up the window. "Whew," he says, shaking his head, "That girl is hornier than a buck in mating season."

Lucy makes a face and says primly, "She wouldn't know class if it punched her in the nose."

Dean sends her a sideways glance and struggles not to grin.

--

They drop Sammie off at Nina's and speed off before she can come outside; Dean doesn't want to have to deal with her again. And anyway, it might be a little difficult to explain why there are fake IDs strewn across the backseat, and why John is still wearing an eye patch.

(Fuckin' selkies.)

Sammie walks nervously up to the front door and rings the bell; Nina answers with a huge smile and waves her inside. She peers past Sammie's shoulder with a disappointed frown. "No big brother today?" She asks.

"Dad needed him," Sammie answers vaguely in a tone that says _get your hands off my brother, you dirty whore/bitch_. "So… what were you saying, about magic?"

Nina smiles. It's a little feral, and it's a lot scary. Sammie is suddenly thinking that she may be in a little over her head. Or maybe a lot.

"Well, magic is a funny thing, Sammie," she says cheerfully. "It needs to get love if it's going to give it. Would you like some Cheerios?"

"Uh, no on the Cheerios. What kind of love are we talking about here?"

Nina pours her a bowl anyway. (Sammie is maybe totally fucked.) "I was thinking… your brother."

-X-

Yeah, Sammie thinks, _you're_ not a creep.

-X-

"Dean?" Sammie asks with wide, new-girl eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Shh, Sammie," Nina purrs. "Eat your Cheerios."

For the record, Sammie fucking _hates_ Cheerios, unless they are honey nut.

-X-

Dean fingers his cell phone nervously, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. "I'm not so sure about this, Dad," he mutters. "Sammie doesn't quite know how to handle herself yet, I don't know if—"

John cuffed his son on the back of the head. "Dean," he said, not unkindly, "Shut up. Sammie will be fine. Just breathe. Your brother… your sister can handle herself just fine."

"Yeah, but not wearing _heels_!"

Lucy puts her hand on Dean's arm, smiling comfortingly at him. "Sammie learned from the best, Dean. She'll be fine. That kid took to womanhood like a fish to a pond. Chill." She slips her hand down the length of his arms and they curl their fingers together.

Dean won't tell you this, but it's sort of nice.

-X-

"Dad? Dad. Okay. I'm at Nina's. She's setting up. She says she wants Dean. I don't know. Do I go through with this? What the hell. What the hell. She made me eat Cheerios and now I feel fat and bloated and ugly and seriously—she wants _Dean_? Ew."

"Your brother is a good-lookin' boy, Sammie. Now listen to me. I need you to make sure she's in front of a window. Can you do that for me?"

"I don't know. I'll try."

"That's a good girl. Do you want to talk to your brother? I'll have to get his tongue out of Lucy's mouth first but I'll see what I can do."

"What? Dad. Like, ew. No. I'll talk to you soon."

"Sammie. I love you. You can do this."

A brief pause. "I love you too, Dad."

-X-

"Ready?" Nina asks, a knife in one hand and small bowl of mystery ingredients in the other. "I promise, this won't hurt. All you have to do is repeat after me…"

Sammie is panicking.

They're in a room with no windows.


	5. Chapter 5

a strange thing happened on the way to the museum

a strange thing happened on the way to the museum

_For my family,_

_Who are totally nuts._

_(And I love them for it.)_

"Um," Sammie said weakly. "That's a nice knife."

Nina shrugged dismissively. "It's plated in diamonds," she said, as if to say, hey, this baby could kill you without breaking a sweat, but don't worry. It would still be done with class.

Sammie shifted. "Um," she said again, because okay, the knife was awesome.

Nina paid no attention to her. She handed the Bowl of Mysterious Origin to Samantha and went about setting up the table; from her suspiciously expensive purse she produced a large cross, a small black book with a leather binding, a fistful of rose petals, a table cloth, newspaper clippings, three candles, and a box of matches.

"Got room in there for a wallet?" Sammie joked weakly.

-X-

"All right," Nina instructed in monotone, "Give me your hand."

She brandished the knife.

"My hand?" Sammie squeaked. "Like, my_ hand_ hand? Because, um, you should know, I'm kind of a germophobe and, um - "

No dice. Nina just looked at her with that Cunty Stare she'd obviously been practicing, since it got more and more cunty every time she whipped it out.

"I have to pee," Sammie said.

-X-

"Dad, can I _puh-lease_ get a diamond-plated knife like Nina's? I could like, _totes_ kick ass with a diamond-plated knife. And I _swear_ I won't ever complain about hunting again because, I mean, I'll have this x-core _bitchin_' weap that I could carry around with me, and I would name it Diana after the huntress but give it the nick 'Di' like 'diamond' which is so _perf,_ I mean, don't you think? I know, I'm like a total—"

-X-

John Winchester has discovered where words go when they die.

He thrust the phone at Dean. "Talk to your sister," he ordered, "Before I go in there and beat her to death with that diamond-plated knife that we're never going to hear the end of."

-X-

"--Oh em _gee_, Dean, why does Dad have to be so lame? Like _he's_ never wanted a cool new diamond-plated knife before. It's so _cute._ It's got little studs all along the handles and the handle is like, all cushy so that it doesn't hurt when you stab things or have to, like, rip through something or whatever. Dean. It kicks total _ass_. And Nina's is engraved on the bottom, with her initials, and –"

-X-

Dean handed the phone wordlessly to Lucy, his expression dazed. "Could you…?"

His voice was feeble. Defeated.

-X-

"—I know it's totes ridic that I'm asking _now_, but obvi I might not get a chance _later_, and this is just one of those things that is like, _supes_ important to me, Daddy. I mean, I don't ask for very much cuz I know you work like, _so_ hard for Dean'n'me, but couldn't we have like _uno_ exception? I mean, for me? It's just one little life, like, bee eff dee. And that's, in case you don't know, 'big flippin' deal' or I mean it could be that _other_ f-bomb but like, _I'm_ not gonna be the one to say it – "

-X-

Lucy slowly put the phone on the dash, where Sammie's uninetelligable ramblings could barely be heard over the whine of the Impala.

"I have to go now," she said numbly, the words drawn out and cautious, as if she didn't trust herself to speak without vomiting.

Neither Dean nor John noticed her leave.

In silence, both of them stared at the phone.

They sat like that for a long time.

-X-

"—And I _told _Nina that I take a while in the bathroom and everything but I mean, this is getting a t-bit redic so I'm gonna let you go for reals. And oh, totes don't worry because we're in a room without windows but like, I can _totes_ handle myself. I mean, how hard can it be? Plus, maybe if I win I'll get to keep the knife and that way no one has to worry about buying it! I mean, okay, so there's the minor problem of the wrong initials, but we can _totes_ work that out. Okay? Okay. Great. Love you, mean it!"

-X-

The line went dead. Dean wiped his bleeding ears clean and turned slowly to face his father, who was thinking, _I am going to kill every fuckin' witch on this planet. I am not going to stop until they are all so dead they don't even know what life is._

"Do you think it's safe?" he asked, whispering, his ears grating with the sound of … words.

"She has to get that from her mother's side," John said wonderingly. "I've never heard – I never suspected – "

"Dad," Dean said, steeling himself. "We have to get Sam back. I can't—" His voice cracked. "I can't go through that again. I can't do it, Dad."

John's hand landed heavily on his son's shoulder, eyes bright. "Don't speak, son. I know just what you're saying."

-X-

"Okay," Sammie chirped, re-entering the room. "So what's the dealio?"

Nina sat cross-legged in the center of the room's rug, her eyes skimming over the black book. "Well, Sammie, this is the plan. I give you magic to keep you pretty and thin, and in return I get your brother."

-X-

Wow, Sammie thought. This girl is _really_ desperate. I mean, she needs magic to get a boyfriend? Can you say _puh-thetic?_

-X-

"And, um, what exactly does that entail?" Sammie asked.

"Oh, it's easy," Nina purred, taking Sammie's hand in a friendly-slash-terrifying gesture of solidarity. "All we have to do is make a little cut on your hand—just a little one. And I make a cut on _my_ hand. And then we're blood sisters, see? And since _I'm_ a witch, that will automatically make _you_ a witch. And from there it's all just a matter of _you_ asking for what you want, and _me_ sucking Dean off."

-X-

Um, okay, graphic much? Like, _ew._

-X-

"Sure," Sammie said, sarcastic. "Sounds super."

Let the record show that Sammie did not even for the tiniest of seconds actually consider turning over her brother to the harpy in front of her. She wanted to be skinny but, really, she wasn't _that_ desperate.

Or fat. If she'd been really that fat, maybe things would have been different.

And don't judge, at least she's being honest.

-X-

Nina frowned. "What's wrong?"

_Inside of every girl,_ Lucy had told her, _there is a Bitch. Find her, Sammie, and you will unlock centuries of womanhood, binding you eternally to the female race._

_How do I find her?_ Sammie had asked, wide-eyed.

Lucy put a gentle hand on her young padawan's shoulder. _She will come when you need her,_ she'd answered sagely. _She will come when there is no one else to come. Now who's up for ice cream?_

Sammie closed her eyes. _Inner Bitch,_ she prayed, _I need you now._

And the Inner Bitch, just like Lucy promised, came.

-X-

"What's _wr-ong_?" Sammie asked, pronouncing "wrong" as if it had two syllables. "Girl, do you think I'm gonna just set your man-eating ass on my only favorite brother? You are out of your _mind_. Straight up _crazy._ Dean wouldn't touch you if he had a twenty-foot, sanitized, money-back-guarant_eed_ pole _while_ he was wearing disinfectant gloves. I don't how your mother taught you to behave, but girl, _someone_ needs to set you straight."

Nina's eyes narrowed. "You have _no_ idea who you're messing with," she growled.

"Bitch," Sammie laughed. "_Puh-lease._"

With a battle cry, Nina raised the knife.

Sammie curled her upper lip.

Oh, bitch, it was _game time._


End file.
